


Talk to your Devils (And Pray, Pray)

by azerblazer



Category: Inception (2010), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Ambiguous Relationships, Crossover, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Multi, Sibling Incest, Superception, Taking the Super out of Supernatural, The Dream Team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azerblazer/pseuds/azerblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters were considered odd in the dream share circuit.</p><p>They picked up a couple of newbies out of nowhere once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk to your Devils (And Pray, Pray)

**Author's Note:**

> Finally got this Superception idea out there, and with a little plot to boot!
> 
> So what do you get when you put Team Free Will (plus Gabriel) and add Dream(share)?  
> The Dream Team.  
> -  
> Please excuse any discrepancies and spelling errors; I'm bound to miss a couple here and there and usually iron it after I publish it, because that's when I'll inevitably notice it.  
> As to the world of Inception, it is a long tangled and knotted concept that is always perceived in many different ways. For this fic I follow some movie theory that some of you may not agree with. Please don't chew me out, I took what I wished and saw from the inception wiki, many wonderful metas all over the place and this handy dandy interactive animated graphic that explains the Inception Job beautifully. [here ](http://www.inception-explained.com/)

The Winchesters were considered odd in the dream share circuit.

Not much was known about them, except that they were on exceptionally friendly terms with Bobby Singer, an infamous chemist who supplied and prioritized them over any of his other customers.

If anyone didn't like that they could show themselves out before he took out his shotgun.

But in the dream circuit, a person generally specified in a certain field. The two brothers, or whatever they were- they'd never answer that question straight- seemed to be able to decently hold any position in a team. It made them flexible, but not as well known for a specific position.

The eldest, Dean favored being Extractor, it certainly seemed to be made for him at times. He could charm the pants off their mark, and usually did unless the job called for something different. He was a con man through and through; and no man or woman noticed they were being fleeced once he started his con.

Sam, the youngest and the tallest of the two, preferred Point Man as much as possible. He had a knack for research and seemed to follow along Dean's train of thought easily and adjust his own preparations accordingly. He had various contacts in all places and was known to be in good terms with the infamous Arthur from the European Dream Circuit and a well known international extractor everyone called Miss Masters. Although the two kept their hunting grounds stateside.

-

They traveled by Impala, or at least Dean did. And wherever Dean headed to, Sam was probably on a similarly convoluted route set to intersect with his brother every two weeks if not traveling with him already for long stretches of time.

Dean's refusal to get anywhere near planes is part of the reason they will probably never go outside the Americas. They can deal, the US highways are their hunting ground and most of the time they don't even need a map anymore.

Dean will never forgive his brother for the time he dreamt both of them into a plane just minutes before crash landing.

Sam got revenge for the terrifying clown attack that had ripped them apart while practicing inside Dean's dream.

-

They picked up a couple of newbies out of nowhere once. The younger of the two, Castiel, loved to make sweeping and grand skyscrapers. Straight and clean lines, with the urban jungle that was his habitat. He professed to being kind of in love with the Chrysler Building.

The older, Gabriel, had no previous contact with dream share technology, but the Winchesters were jacks of all trades, and taught both of them the basics until they found something well suited to them. Castiel became their architect. Gabriel on the other hand, melded in as their forger. He had a keen eye for discrepancies and the little details that defined forgers.

When they went into the PASIV to let him practice, he switched smoothly out of his skin like he was born in dreams. Even Dean admitted, grudgingly and when plied with many beers, that it was a thing of beauty.

-

It seemed to be a fluke. A ballsy fluke, that the first job Gabriel takes is with the Winchesters and the architect named Kali who'd funded the job. He'd been hard up for money since they'd left home, Castiel only just barely legal enough to buy beer; and had done something to impress Kali enough to get him into the Dream circuit.

Their forger was a bit iffy though, and had bailed early and the dream had to be finished earlier than anticipated. The forger long gone from her post, along with all the jewelry and gold in the house.

It wasn't a mark with any real security, thank god, but they still had to outrun the police that was called by an overly concerned neighbor.

Kali gave them their share, despite the rush at the end, before making her own getaway, muttering darkly about thieves who couldn't be trusted. Ms. Talbot would be getting a very nasty visit soon, they guessed.

Gabriel had panicked and before he could do something ill advised had been wrangled into a rental car with Dean driving with very little regard about pedestrians or traffic signs. Sam was next to Gabriel and asked him, very politely to hold on to his leg while he swung outside the window, almost clipped a motorcyclist and shot out two squad car's front tires.

It was an appropriate pre-cursor to living with the Winchesters, actually.

-

He was shaky and pale as they pulled up to his hotel, Dean shifting into neutral and holding a hilarious short fight with his brother using solely pointed looks and their eyebrows. Sam lost, or won, and accompanied Gabriel to his room, unsurprised at Castiel's worried face.

He'd probably looked them up weeks before working together.

"What's going on?" the surprisingly deep voice sort of threw Sam off a bit, but he explained as succinctly as he could while Gabriel went about the room packing their meager belongings. "You two are going to have to come with us, just until the heat dies down."

"Why should we?" Castiel tilted his chin in a familiar manner, squaring his shoulders and squinting some really blue eyes. The unvoiced, _'Why should we trust you? A con man and a criminal?'_ ringing through the air.

"Cassie, they're the ones who got me here safely. If they wanted to get rid of us they would have left me back at the mark's house." Gabriel dumped a couple of college course books into his frowning brother's arms, took him by the shoulders and began pushing him out the door. "Stick these in the rental car idling out front would you?"

Castiel was distrustful of everyone Gabriel had connections with. With good reason, as most of them would kill them both for the right price. He himself kept his gun hand as free as possible around the two Winchesters.

-

When Sam and Gabriel finally lug everything inside, Dean is recounting a worn and well loved tale about a corporate job they did a while back that ended with both brothers in high heels and bunny ears, learning that it was very difficult to pilot a chopper whilst wearing such footwear.

Castiel is listening intently, Dean unbothered by the frank and unwavering gaze, easy and loose and in his element.

All of his acquaintances, on both sides of the law make Castiel go grim and foreboding and silent when introduced. Squinty stare unnerving the hell out of them.

Along comes the biggest conman to ever con, one Dean Winchester, and Castiel immediately marks him down as a good man.

Gabriel feels that he will never understand his younger brother.

It was only for a short time anyway, just until the heat dies down; a week at the most.

-

Three weeks later, they were still riding the backseat of very nice Chevy Impala, fruitlessly searching for clean clothes.

"Just buy yourself new ones." Dean shrugs. Sam snoring away in the passenger seat.

Gabriel throws up his hands in exasperation, "That is total overkill, I'm not made of money you know!" There were Cas' class bills to pay, fuel, food, hotels.

Dean snorted, "You're already on the law's shit list, why not go all the way?"

He wears a conman's smile, smooth, suave and filled with promises.

-

Dean "buys" Cas a trenchcoat.

It clashes hilariously with Cas' usual attire of a neat suit and tie ensemble; it's nice though, fine material and sturdy as hell. Cas comes back from the shopping trip wearing it unbuttoned and beaming while he later tells Gabriel how Dean had smoothly stolen it with no one the wiser, in plain sight.

Gabriel's torn between laughing and wanting to hide Castiel away from the rabbit hole he's tottering over. It's taken out of his hands however, and he feels a bit adrift when his baby brother tells him that he's going to learn everything he can from Dean and Gabriel has no say in the matter. '

 _Everything?_ Gabriel questions softly. Castiel looks at him steadily, _I will not have you out there alone without me, brother._

So Castiel continues to study hard, and is usually the one stuck making the rest food, and follows Dean around with a quiet wonder in his eyes at everything the older Winchester has to teach him.

He takes on more online architectural classes, buying glossy textbooks with towering cityscapes and strange lines that make no sense to Gabriel, he and Sam begin to share the cooking duties and Dean proudly gives him his first gun to squirrel away under his treasured coat.

-

When being a forger is properly explained to him, he had been merely recruited as a primarily research driven point man for his first ever job that went to hell, he sees something familiar in the way Dean switches his dominant hands, lowers his gait and smooths out his face into an unfamiliar nervous mannerism. He copies it immediately, already calculating what angle he'd have to tilt his left foot to walk; his hands trying to be stiff while his face must be something hilarious because Dean barks out a laugh.

His next hundred tries are no better, but it's the rush of assurance and familiarity that keeps him at it, standing in front of the full length mirror and practicing the movements of his legs, then his arms, and his shoulders. Gabriel walks, struts more like, confidently. Mostly because he has a gun in his pants, his charisma and hangs around criminals 24/7 now.

But he wasn't always confident. And he remembers how he used to shuffle around his older brothers, tail tucked between his legs in an effort to not spark any tempers. He remembers his life, and it is sectioned into the different personalities he's worn, the different people he's been. Still is, only merged seamlessly into the now; forger-in-training Gabriel.

He's been the faithful, optimistic one, the meek, the downtrodden, the rebel, the bitter one. It's like slipping on an old shirt, covering up and stretching over his current personality superficially. And yet, he's thrown back to being the reluctant mediator in the house, scurrying around like a shade and speaking softly and always pleading.

He takes a couple steps forward, eying himself critically; there's a pause when changing directions and a quick jittery sensation thrumming through his bones as he paces forward, shoulders bowed and chin tilted down. His hands are clenched though, and that seems too aggressive to him. He collapses the movements and straightens out, frowning at his disobedient hands.

It's merely one in the morning, there's plenty more time to practice until he has it down pat.

The next morning, or for Gabriel later on in the morning; he shuffles in subservience and nervousness tighten his features and it's quite an achievement to keep his composure when Sam and Cas begin to look unnerved. Dean merely grins knowingly from behind them, appraising and critiquing his form while crunching on his cereal.

"Gabriel did you," a silently horrified look passes over Castiel's face, "Did you blow up something again?"

Gabriel tries to meet his eyes, flicking nervously from Sam to Dean to the door before coming back to rest on his sibling. He says nothing.

Cas drops his bagel, eyes seeking out the hotel fire extinguisher, before he finally looses it and keels over in laughter, catching himself on the table's edge and belly burning from the strain.

He's pelted with Sam's newspaper and Castiel frowns at him until he too chuckles quietly.

His face feels red and flushed from laughing and he wipes some small tears from his eyes. Dean slaps him on the back, grinning.

-

The brothers own a PASIV, something in Gabriel screams "Opportunity" every time he sees it. Dean stares him down until he looks away.

"Don't be insulting. I wouldn't steal it."

Dean's face doesn't change. Gabriel spies Castiel slipping a coin into Sam's pocket as he brushes past to put away his plate. Sam sips his coffee and fishes it out, handing it wordlessly back to Cas. He tries again. Gabriel pulls a face.

"Well, Cas likes you two too much to try." He speaks nothing of his own burgeoning affection. If he ignores it, it might not exist anymore. Dean merely slots in the needle into his arm. Gabriel leans back and breathes in deeply.

He exhales and opens his eyes to the same speckled ceiling. Dean besides him, warm and solid.

"It was a great try, missed a couple of things, but that'll come with experience." Dean directs him to the now empty table, Sam's discarded newspaper and Castiel's coin gleaming on top of it.

"You practiced all night in the bathroom mirror, changing your manner," Dean nodded decisively, "As a forger, it's rare, but not unheard of, to use your own form to contact a mark with. But you usually have some premeditated person to forge and manipulate the mark with. You must take someone's personality quirks, and forge them into your armor. Your new shape. With me so far?"

Gabriel hums, eying the swirls of dust in the sunlight absently. He tries to remember the absolute trust in his brother, the fact that Samael could do no wrong in his eyes. He was everything to Gabriel, taught him to laugh, to let go of any resentment that they had in their situation.

A huff brings him back from his brief introspection. Looking at Dean he notices that he's become taller, he blinks again, back to being eye level once more.

"What-"

"You shrunk." It seemed to have taken him by surprise, "You turned into a little kid, six or so."

Submerging himself back in memories seemed to be all that was needed here, but it was also broken more easily. A considering noise and he quiets down, Dean lifting the beer in his hand to drink silently as Gabriel concentrated.

A laugh spluttered out of Dean as Gabriel blinked. Scooping a plastic mirror from the table he holds it up for Gabriel to see. On his face is a handlebar mustache, deep brown and glossy.

"You look like a bad porn actor in Casa Erotica. Try again."

_-_

_He was twelve and Micheal had asked for Gabriel to try to get Samael -"it's Lucifer now Mikey"- to take care of the young ones while he went out on errands. It smells like stale cigarettes inside his room, in the opposite wing away from them, from Michael. He glares blurrily at Gabriel, hungover probably, until Gabriel stutters out his message, because Castiel had started crying and wouldn't go to his bed-_

_Hands grip his face, rancid breath hot on his cheeks; he'll probably just chuck him out and slam the door on his ass AGAIN,_

"Open 'em."

The voice isn't soft, nor raw from smoke and Gabriel is swimming back up from nostalgia, breaking the top layer and focusing on the large mirror in the bathroom they're now in, Dean holding his face, huge hand dwarfing it easily.

He is twelve, and wearing ratty sneaker and jeans with an old Green Lantern shirt with a hole in the hem that he twists his fingers in. His hair is droopy and his face is fearful and cast down. He looks seconds away from bursting into tears before everything catches up to him and he hears a faint pop as he suddenly sheds the form and stands there as he is now, with Dean holding his shoulders and squeezing them once in praise.

"Again."

He does so.

-

Weeks in, they're in Castiel's mind, a lush forest that suddenly springs up a towering metal and concrete structure with a glinting top in the center. With its smooth arches and perfect lines of windows, not to mention the countless photos that are taped everywhere in the living room; Gabriel can expertly deduce the Chrysler Building on sight.

And probably trace out its layout from memory by sheer osmosis from the drawings he's been seeing weeks on end.

Castiel and Sam go on ahead, stepping inside the lobby and leaving Dean and Gabriel to sort themselves out. The quiet seems to swell and break when the low mummer of passerby begin to fill the air, walking past them to continue on to the forest with their shiny shoes and expensive suits. Other walk in and out of the building.

Breathing in deeply he immediately focuses on a specific memory, a feeling. Taking that snatch of consciousness, _Micheal is yelling at Lucifer, Samael, pointing at Gabriel's brand new tattoo that proudly stood out amongst the red puffy skin over his sternum. It wasn't even about him, he'd figured he could walk out of here and it wouldn't matter to either of them. This was just another excuse to go head to head, to try to scream at each other over the rift between them, hoping it'll rebuild the broken bridges. Tears burn his eyes and he sneers as he pushes the table over, breaking the dishes they can't afford to break._

_He walks out, voices raised even more behind him, stinging accusations and blame being slung about and he keeps walking, that same rebellious bitterness, willing to seek out any attention, good or bad just to have a voice in the argument that rules his whole LIFE-_

He keeps walking, metal buckles jingling on his boots, because Lucifer isn't the only one who can rebel, and whose to say he can't have pierced his lip? His short black hair flutters around his eyes, and he thrusts his hands into his baggy sweatshirt, craving for a fresh cig.

He frowns and scowls at Dean, moody at the slim man with horn-rimmed glasses and crisp suit he's become. Sneering at the sidelong looks he's garnering; they're probably thinking of him as a poor little drug addict, with her heavy boots and too short skirt, baggy sweater and piercings jingling; flicking out her lighter and tapping out a last cigarette from the crumpled case. She lights it with easy grace and inhales.

"Let's go then old man."

-

It takes Cas and Sam five tries to finally spot Gabriel and Dean. To be fair, a moody smoking girl in too much black and a reedy guy with glasses were way off of what they had expected. And Gabriel pulled it off well, a worrying degree in character.

She touched her sternum, right below her breasts; just a flick down and her frown eased, he seemed to come back to himself and shed the forge, back with them in his jeans and jacket with the smarmiest grin across his face, flicking his lighter totem open and shut.

It is startling, how immersed Gabriel becomes, as he's sucked into the character. The only prevention they've put in place to solidly tether him back to his real form is his totem, a burnished silver zippo lighter, little red jewels forming a cross on the side. He flicks it open and shut, the flame dancing merrily.

Castiel sees it and fiddles with his, a little copper cross on a broken chain he keeps in his inner pockets of his trenchcoat. The Winchesters had their own, a strange bronze pendant for Dean; and a little silver toy soldier for Sam.

He still needs work, both him and Castiel do, but the Winchesters don't seem to mind having tagalongs. They haven't gone on a job, don't even worry about money, waving away their attempts to pay for things. Sam with a smile, Dean with a rough, amused,"Don't be a dumbass."

Even so, both brothers carefully file away all the kind gestures, determined to pay them back even if it took a lifetime.

-

Castiel had been on track for a Religious study major, but neatly shifted to architecture classes to supplement the ones he'd taken for his own passion, religious art.

He never told his brother that changing the landscape of his dream made him feel like a benevolent, powerful God sometimes.

It was a blasphemous thought, and made him feel the tiniest amount of guilt as he reconfigured walkways and sidewalks; compounded by the remembered lessons learnt in the priest run orphanage he grew up in.

But Sam was patient with him and walked all along the buildings he built, pointing out the flaws and beautiful creations alike, until Castiel could loop in the mark easily, corralling them through his maze.

He was frequently torn out of dreams by angered projections, as he had the bad habit of introducing radical change the landscape with sharp movements of his hands; which set the projections a buzz every time.

Dean called him the kid that stomps on the anthill for the hell of it.

His own little test has them all in his dream, on a flat plain filled with circles and shapes. A flat blueprint of an imagined city. He has them all safe in what looks like a chalk drawing of a building that he raises up as high as possible with a thought. It twists up, slick black windows shimmering to life and metal supports groaning until the whole thing grinds to a halt.

With a clear view, he sweeps his arms out in a grand gesture, grinning fiercely and gesturing grandly like a maddened conductor.

When everything is settled, they go and tour the vast and gleaming cathedrals, lavish hotels and towering skyscrapers. In the middle of this jutting cityscape lies the Chrysler building, grand and lovingly set apart by a circle of cars, pavement and gardens.

They hide successfully from the projections for an hour, and shoot themselves out of the dream to celebrate in the real world with pie and greasy delicious burgers.

-

It happens during a three level job, where Sam's research and Dean's contacts don't report any animosity the mark might have against them.

Either way, Lilith knew they were coming and was viciously prepared. Everything is thrown to hell, when she turns the landscape against them in the second level. Snarling, drooling beasts come up out of the pavement and all Dean has time to do is push Sam out of the way before he's snatched up in the jaws of one and dragged away into the city maze. She hooks Dean up into her own PASIV and takes him under into her own dream.

Castiel is the only one to follow her, with Sam holding up the first level, and Gabriel keeping a tense watch over their sleeping bodies in the second. He sees her and she constructs a wall of fire that flares up when he gets close to her.

Dean is on the ground with a huge snarling Cerberus statue pinning him down. He has a panicked look, trying to yank himself out, only to be squeezed by the concrete beast. Lilith looks over at Castiel, and her knowing smile makes him finally understand how utterly unprepared they were for this job.

"Let me teach you a trick I learned from an extractor and his dead wife." She uses her expensive shoes to tilt Dean's head towards her, smiling at the animosity present. "Give my regard to your father, Winchester."

A widening of the eyes is all Dean gets to do before the statue crunches down on his chest, killing him instantly.

Castiel makes the ground shudder, curls his fingers and mimes ripping something apart. The very ground obeys his command, a cracking noise reverberating through his very bones as the landscape is twisted to his will. Dean's body, discarded by the many headed dog and its master; is now on a raised dais, far from Lilith's reach and the immediate battle ground.

Then, Lilith is all his.

-

He takes his own PASIV down to Limbo after Dean while Lilith's dream breaks all around him.

-

When they ride the kicks back up, Dean wakes up dazed and is hauled physically out of the mark's home; Lilith left a drooling vegetable. When they're back at their hotel, he hugs Sam fiercely, refusing any offers to talk about it. He goes to the two brothers as well, who are shaken enough to give no protest when his grip tightens to the point of pain.

Castiel makes no mention of the old white haired man who lived in a broken down Chevy with cinder blocks for tires, droves of toy soldiers in meticulous formations about him. He shared with him lollipops and candy bars and had stared confusedly at his trenchcoat, until Castiel's words brought him back to himself.

And then holding that elderly Dean's arm in a tight grip and giving him a gun to get them out of Limbo.

-

When the time finally comes that Gabriel asks to borrow the PASIV, the brothers agree, on the condition that they go under with Gabriel.

They drive all the way to California, to the sprawling city of LA; and are led into a small hospital, where Castiel traverses with familiarity, uncaring of the identical white gleaming halls, certain of his path.

In the long term ward they are ushered by a stern nurse who greets Gabriel and Castiel with a hug before leaving them to their business.

On the bed is a pale man, eyes shut as if in sleep and tubes taped to his nose and mouth. His face holds laugh lines and deep wrinkles though he can't be much older than Dean.

Setting the case down besides the patient, Dean takes the medical chart and spies the words, "vehicular collision" and "head trauma" before handing it over to Sam to sort out the medical jargon. Castiel joins him, smoothing down the limp hand and bringing it under the covers gently.

Gabriel is on the bed's other side, dumping his bag on the cushioned chair and searching the man's unresponsive face fiercely before giving up and confronting the Winchester's puzzled expressions.

"This is our brother," he looks briefly away, already feeling the familiar slow dragging grief that the room brings. Countless hours spent in this room pacing and talking and pleading fruitlessly for a response. "He's been comatose for three years now, and we've been searching for a way to get him out of it."

And now with a borrowed PASIV, they might actually begin to fix their broken family by returning the prodigal son to the waking world.

Taking hold of the limp hand, tiny crosses tattooed on every knuckle, and carefully minding the tubes and cables, he pats it gently, whispering a sad, "Lucy, we're home." 


End file.
